Turn It Up Read Online Free PDF Page B

ground against her. Missionary, of course, his favorite, with him in control…or so he thinks . She linked her ankles behind his ass, her hips rising to meet his. He was beyond hard. He was throbbing. It wouldn’t take long. He was too close. She raked her nails down his bare back. His awed hiss spiked her fury and she bowed into him, her tongue diving into his mouth.
    Jerking her hand from his back, Charlie thrust it between their bodies. His shorts button snapped and the metal zipper zinged. Solid, hard flesh filled her palm and he froze, his agonized sigh of delight hot against her lips. His head fell back when her grip tightened. She curled her fingers around his shaft, and her lips twisted with battled tears. She swallowed her grief. The hollow below his Adam’s apple called her mouth and she licked out, gliding across his skin.
    So easy, it was so easy. The death of something priceless should be harder to achieve.
     
     
    Charlie was killing him. Bastian fought for control as her fingers curved around his cock and stroked long, maddening strokes. Every inch of his skin burned with desire. She was sweeter than the marshmallows, richer than the chocolate, more intoxicating than the beer. His fantasies had never been this enticing, this compelling. Too many months of wanting had built up until her touch scorched him.
    He had to be dreaming.
    This couldn’t really be happening.
    It was going to happen too soon if she didn’t stop.
    The Herculean effort to peel her hands from his pants and her lips from his neck forced his eyes open. Her frantic mouth on his shuttered them again. He needed to taste her. Sliding down her body, he took a pebbled crest in his mouth. Her spine curved. Slender fingers shot through his hair, holding him closer as he circled the tight nipple with his tongue.
    More, he wanted more. He pulled one hand above her head, rounding her breast firmer into his mouth. His nails scraped the dirt as he gripped her hand.
    Dirt.
    They were in the dirt.
    He was taking Charlie in the dirt.
    No.
    The roar of frustration that formed as he yanked his lips from her breast died when he saw her eyes. The unshed tears shattered him. Charlie was furious…and wounded. Shame cooled him like a waterfall, cracking his voice.
    “Charlie.”
    She surged up and took his mouth again. Torture would have been easier than halting her kiss but nowhere near as painful. She was going through the motions with absolute detached expertise. This was not what he wanted.
    “Charlie, no.”
    He vaulted from her, his lungs burning with great gulps of oxygen. He couldn’t look at her, naked from the waist up, her taste still in his mouth. He turned away. How had the night gone so wrong?
    He jumped when her hands smoothed around his waist. Hard nipples, still damp from his tongue, skimmed his back and he stepped away from her. “Don’t touch me a minute. Stay there, please.”
    The rampant longing in his voice shocked him. Lust-crazed was a sensation he associated with adolescents, not himself. He’d needed before, hungered, thought he’d explode, but never had he experienced this complete red haze of physical want. He ached for her. Good God, he ached. The dull pain would not dissipate. Crossing to the cooler, he fished out a frosty bottle.
    Droplets splashed his stomach. The water seared his heated skin. In a frenzied flash, he held the icy glass to his gaping fly. Pain lurched through his groin and he gasped. It helped. Some.
    “You’re going to get frostbite and I have plans for that body part.”
    The chill in her tone rivaled the beer. Charlie made no move to cover herself, allowing the dying firelight to dance over her breasts. Swollen from his kisses, her lips were lush and full but held in a firm line. Bastian recognized the tilt to her head, the slant of her brow, the thrust of her jaw. She was primed for a marathon bitch session and he was about to be her bitch.
    “Put your shirt on. Give me a minute. We need to talk